


Consequences

by Jaxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cokeworth, Corporal Punishment, Domestic Violence, Explicit Language, Gen, Hogwarts, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 13:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxon/pseuds/Jaxon
Summary: When Harry breaks the Statute of Secrecy by flying to Hogwarts in a Ford Anglia, Severus Snape is convinced the boy should be expelled.After all, breaking the Statute is a serious offence.  And Severus should know; he remembers his own brutal punishment only too well.





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> This stemmed from a discussion about Snape being scarred. I proposed that he might carry scars from childhood rather than adulthood, as he was possibly capable of healing his wounds as an adult.
> 
> I received a prompt request of: I think he has scars because he doesn't hurt people physically but he is nasty verbally. He was injured when he was little and he doesn't want to hurt people in the same way but he thinks verbal abuse doesn't count. Can you write how he receives his scars as a kid?
> 
> If any of the tags trigger you, please do not read on.

**September 1992**

“You should’ve expelled them.”

“Severus, really.  You’ve been whining about this all week.”

Severus’ expression was petulant.  “Famous Harry Potter.  He who never faces any consequences.”

“There were consequences.”

“A solitary Howler from Molly Weasley?  Addressed to Ronald?  He exposed our world to the Muggles, Minerva!  Am I the only person who sees how dangerous that is?”

“The Ministry have Obliviated all involved.”

Severus scowled.  Minerva sighed, and placed the Daily Prophet on the staffroom table.  “Severus, what’s this really about?”

“It’s not _really_ about anything.  It’s about exactly what it looks like.  Would you like me to write you a list?”  Severus stood and paced the room.  “It’s about justice.  About consequences for your actions.  About taking responsibility.  About learning how to accept a punishment when you’re in the wrong.”

“Severus, the boy is twelve,” Minerva scolded.  “He was a bit overenthusiastic, and he made a mistake.  He doesn’t deserve to be scarred for life.”

Severus’ dark eyes flashed, and he stalked from the staff room, slamming the door as he left.  Minerva huffed angrily at the Slytherin’s abrupt departure, and whisked the paper back up.

* * *

**September 1970**

“Excuse me!”  

David Evans tried to catch the thick shouldered man striding down the road.

“Excuse me!”

His cheeks reddened with effort.  He was a businessman, not a sportsman, and he was losing ground on the man before him. In desperation, David raised his voice to a level that he knew his wife, Rose, would not approve of.  “Hey!  I’m talking to you!”  

His uncouth hollering worked, and the man finally turned, his jaw set.  “What?”

“Ah!”  David beamed as he caught up, and held out his hand.  “I’m David Evans, and you must be?”

The man stared at the proffered hand for a long moment, and then glared at David.  “Late.”  He turned, and resumed his quick walk.

“Right, right, don’t let me keep you,” David said, jogging lightly beside the man.  “I can walk with you.”

“What do you want?”

“Forgive me if I am wrong, but you are Severus’ father, aren’t you?”

At this, the man hastened his stride.  “I’m not payin’.”

“Sorry?”

“Whatever the little bastard has done this time, I’m not payin’.”

A frown flickered across David's brow.  “No, you don’t understand.  He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Tobias snorted.  David didn’t know what to say, so he accompanied Tobias to the end of the street before he dared speak again.  

“I just wanted to say what a delight it was to meet your son last night.”

At this, Tobias spun on his heel, puffed his chest out and drew himself up to his full height.  He loomed over David, backing him against the wall, his broad shoulders blocking the way.  “What’s he done?” he hissed.

David tried to ensure that his voice didn’t shake.  “He’s not done anything.”

“Nobody has ever said what a _delight_ ,” Tobias said, almost spitting the word in David's face, “it is to meet my boy.”  He moved forward, invading David's space. David had nowhere to go, his back pressed flush against the brickwork.  “What did he do to you?”

David shook his head.

“He’s been weird, hasn’t he?”

“No.  No!” David pushed his hands into his pockets to hide the tremor.  “He explained a lot.  About my little girl.  About himself.  How they’re the same.  Isn’t it fascinating?”  He gave a watery smile.

“Fascinating.”

“And the school?  It sounds marvellous, frankly.  Just what the pair of them need, and I’m so pleased that they’ve made friends.  Honestly, it’s just such a relief!  Rose – that’s my wife – and I, well, we’d started to despair.  She’s such a good kid, you’ll know yourself, but these things just kept happening that we couldn’t explain, and Petunia, she’s Lily’s sister, of course-”

Tobias held a single hand up, and David stopped his nervous rambling.  

“What.  Did.  He. Do?”

“I don’t, I don’t follow?”

Tobias took a long intake of breath.  “He did something.  He proved it, didn’t he?”

“Oh.  Oh!”  David gave another watery smile, suddenly catching Tobias’ meaning.  “Yes.  All rather impressive, really.  Well, apart from the broken vase, but we all have accidents, don’t we?”

Something flashed in Tobias’ eyes, and he gave a twisted smile.  “What was most impressive?”

David relaxed at the change in Tobias’ demeanour.  “I suppose the fire.  Scared the cat a bit, I can tell you,” he laughed.  “And Petunia for that matter.  Amazing though, to think that they can do things like that.  You’d never have thought it to look at him.”

Tobias sniffed.  “No, you never would.”

* * *

Rose Evans pulled the roast chicken from the oven as her husband walked through the kitchen door. “Hello dear,” she said, as he tossed his keys on the table.

David dropped a kiss on the back of his wife’s neck, and breathed in deeply.  “It smells good in here.”

She swatted him with the tea towel.  “It’s almost gone over.  You’re back late?”

“I went to see Severus’ father,” he said, washing his hands at the sink, and then striding down the hallway to the stairs.  “Dinner’s ready in five minutes, girls!”

“Oh David, don’t shout so. What will the neighbours think?”

“That it’s time to eat?” David grinned, relieved that his wife hadn’t witnessed his shouting to Severus’ father in the street. “He’s nothing like the boy.”  

“Not skinny and waif like?”

“No.  He’s big.  Tall. Muscular.  Severus must take after his mother.”

Rose harrumphed. “It’s not genetics.  He needs a good meal, if you ask me.  And a good bath, for that matter.”  She stared at her husband as she folded the tea towel. “Was it a shock to them too?”

David shook his head. “No, he definitely already knew. Didn’t Severus say his mother was a witch?  I guess he must’ve always known?”

“We’ve had it harder then,” she said.  “All those years wondering why your child isn’t normal.”

“Rosie…”

“It’s fine,” she said, lowering her voice.  “I’m fine with it.  I am. It just would’ve been easier had we known from the start.”  She raised her voice as the girls bounded in.  “We should invite them over some time.  The whole family.”

“You’re not talking about that boy, are you?” said Petunia, a sneer adorning her face.

Lily bounced up and down with excitement.  “Severus and his parents can come over?”

“I don’t see why not,” David said, as his youngest daughter hugged him. He ignored Petunia’s scowl.  “It’d be good for us to all get to know each other.”

* * *

Severus slipped into the house through the front door, closing it as gently as he could.  There was a soft click, and he paused, waiting for a reaction.  When none came, he shrugged off his over-sized coat, hung it on the peg and started up the wooden stairs.

“Severus!”

He froze, his leg in mid-air and he clung onto the banister, waiting to see if the call came again. If he stayed still, his father might assume that the house had creaked of its own accord, and he might manage to evade whatever mood he was in.

“SEVERUS!”

No such luck. Sighing, Severus turned and descended, and made his way into the living room.  The room was empty, so he poked his head tentatively around the kitchen door. Before he had chance to look, his father grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the kitchen.  Severus kicked out wildly, thrashing his arms in an attempt to struggle free.  

“Tobias, don’t.  He’s just a boy.”

His mother’s voice was weak, but at her words, the two males stopped their struggle.  Tobias loosened his grip, and Severus sank to the floor. He scrabbled over the filthy tiles, desperate to escape his father.  He reached the corner of the room, and sat with his back to the cupboards, his knees pulled up tight against his chest.  

“He’s an embarrassment, that’s what he is,” spat Tobias, striding up and down the small kitchen, his boots thumping loudly against the tiled floor.

Severus knew better than to speak.  He glanced at his mother, who was holding her mug of tea before her mouth.  Her fingers were clenched around the ceramic so tightly, her fingertips were white.  Her cheeks were tear stained, and when she finally placed the mug on the kitchen table, Severus could see that her lip was freshly split, and new yellow bruising was forming beneath her nose.

He gripped his knees closer to his skinny chest.

“I met a fella today.” Tobias strode back and forth.  Thump.  Thump. Thump.  “Right posh fella he was.  Right posh fella who said what a _delight_ it was to meet my boy.”  He bent down, stared Severus in the face, and laughed loudly.  “Ain’t never yet met a right posh fella who was pleased to meet my boy.”

“Tobias, please.”  

He paused, shooting a filthy look across the room.  Eileen immediately fixed her gaze back onto the mug on the table.  Tobias sniffed, and resumed his striding, still staring at his wife.

“I put up with a lot from you.”  He looked back at Severus.  “ _Both_ of you.  And I asked one thing.”

Severus wrapped his arms more tightly around his shins, and rested his forehead against his knees.

“Didn’t I ask one thing?”

Eileen glanced at her son, who shifted nervously.  

“One FUCKING thing! ONE FUCKING THING!”  Tobias’ yell thundered through the small kitchen.  He bent back down, towering over his young son. “Tell me, boy, what was the ONE FUCKING THING I ASKED YOU TO DO?”

Severus didn’t speak. Eileen stared at her son, imploring him to speak, but he sat in silence.

“Severus.”  Her voice was thin, but it didn’t waver.  “Answer your father.”

Severus mumbled into his knees.

Tobias knelt down, his voice dangerously low.  “Take your face out of your knees and answer me properly.”  

“I’mnotsupposedtoshowanyonemagic,” Severus mumbled.

“Last chance.”

Severus took a deep breath, and raised his voice.  “I’m not supposed to show anyone magic.”

Tobias stood, and resumed his pacing.  “I’m not supposed to show anyone magic.  Straight from the lad’s own mouth,” he gloated, before turning back to face Severus. “Do you want to tell your mother what you did yesterday?”  Before Severus could speak, Tobias addressed his wife.  “I’ll give you one fucking guess, Leen.  How’s that fortune telling working out for you?”

Eileen bristled.  

“Eh?  Worked it out yet?  What boy fucking wonder over there decided to do at the posh fella’s house, eh?”

She didn’t answer. When her husband got like this, Eileen never knew whether it was better to keep quiet, or to answer meekly. Tobias’ eye twitched.  “No?  Don’t know?” He marched over to Severus, and yanked him off the floor by his forearm.  He propelled his scrawny son across the kitchen to stand before Eileen, and then leant down.  Tobias’ breath was hot against Severus’ ear, the bristles on his chin scratching Severus’ soft cheek.  “Tell your mother what you did.”

A solitary tear escaped from Severus’ right eye, and Eileen’s shake of the head was sharp. Severus swiped at it with the cuff of his sleeve and blinked hard.  

Tobias’ voice was back in his ear.  “Every second that you stay silent, your punishment gets worse.”  

“I did magic!  I did magic, I’m sorry, I did magic!”  Hot tears rolled down his face, and he rubbed his cheeks furiously with his sleeve.

Eileen glanced at Tobias. “Maybe it can be fixed.”  Her voice was tender as she spoke to her son. “What exactly did you do?”

Severus shuffled his feet. “Not much.”

Tobias thumped his fist against the table.  “Are you deaf?”

“…no.”

“Your mother,” Tobias ranted, through clenched teeth, “asked you _exactly_ what you did.  If you don’t answer properly, I swear-”

“I made some flowers die, and then brought them back to life!”

Eileen closed her eyes.

“And?” Tobias demanded.

“I turned the radio on from across the room.”

Tobias’ voice was soft. “You did more than that.  I know you did.”

“I summoned a cushion from the living room into my hands.”

Nobody spoke.  The air was thick with tension until Tobias banged his hand against the kitchen table.  “Don’t make me drag it out of you, boy!”

“I made a vase dance!”

“AND YOU BROKE IT!”

“Damn it, Tobias, let the boy tell me himself!” Eileen shrieked.

Tobias’ reaction was quick, and Eileen’s wasn’t.  She took a moment, and then stared at her son, blocking her husband out.  Severus breathed heavily, fixated on the scarlet handprint on his mother’s thin pale face.  Silently, she lifted his chin with a solitary bony finger.  “What else?”

“I broke the vase,” Severus admitted, his voice low.  “I ran out of room on the table and I wasn’t quick enough to catch it.  I couldn’t mend it, but I did dry up the water.”  

“A hot air charm?” Eileen’s smile was small, but Severus could see the pride in her eyes.

“Yes.  And then I lit the grate.”

“And he lit the fucking grate!”  Tobias threw his hands up in the air.  “He lit the fucking grate.  How you gonna explain that away, Leen?  The boy can produce fucking fire!”

“All witches and wizards can produce fire,” Eileen muttered.

“It’s not about the fire! It’s about how he can’t follow a simple fucking rule!”  Tobias ran his hands through his hair.  “What have we told him about not showing people magic?”

Eileen looked pained. “It sounds like the girl has magic. It’ll be ok.”

“You said there were rules. About not telling.  That’s why you never told me.  So why’s it all right for him to go shouting his mouth off?”

“I didn’t shout my mou-”

“Shush, Severus!” Eileen interrupted, standing.  “There are rules, Toby – strict rules, as you well know!  The girl is magical.  It happens. He just got excited, that’s all.”

“And what’s to stop him getting excited next week, eh?  When he meets someone else who says they’re magical too?”

“She didn’t say she was magical,” Severus retorted.  “I could see it!  I’ve been watching her for ages.  She’s always doing magic!  I was dead careful!”

“I don’t want to hear any more,” Tobias said, his voice suddenly back to its normal volume.

“Tobias, he didn-”

“I said, no more. From either of you.”  Tobias sat down heavily at the kitchen table, and stared Severus in the eyes.  “I want you to eat your tea – in silence – and then get into bed.”

Severus nodded.  It was still light outside, but given his father’s anger, an early bedtime was a lucky escape.  He’d lost count of how many times he’d been sent upstairs without any tea, so when his mother plated the lukewarm stew in front of him, he dug in heartily, terrified that it would be whipped away from him at any moment.

* * *

He lay on the bed, reading by the light of the window, desperately trying to block out the muffled argument that was raging downstairs.

Severus was irritated. He knew that he’d broken his father’s rule, but Lily was magical, so it surely didn’t count?  It was just the same as doing magic in front of his mother, and she allowed him to do it all of the time.  

He scowled.  Maybe he’d gone a bit too far when he was demonstrating all of the things he could do, but it had been worth it for the look on Lily’s face – and her parents, and that stupid stuck up sister of hers.  It wasn’t that they feared him.  Well, maybe it was – a tiny bit.  But he could see in their eyes that they thought he was clever, and talented, and powerful.  That’s all he’d wanted.  To be special.  It was definitely worth it.

As abruptly as it started, the bickering downstairs stopped, and he heard his father’s heavy footsteps on the stairs.  Severus closed his book and slid it under the bed; it wouldn’t do to be caught reading when he was supposed to be punished.  He put his hands by his sides, and closed his eyes.

The door swung open, and Severus heard it close again.

“You’re not asleep.” Tobias cast a shadow across the room, even when Severus had his eyes closed.  “I know you’re not asleep.  Open your eyes.”

Cautiously, Severus opened his eyes and looked at his father.

“Good.”  Tobias reached for his belt buckle, and Severus’ blood ran cold.  Not the belt. His eyes widened as Tobias slowly and methodically unwound the strip of leather from his waist.  Once it was free, he flexed it, and it snapped loudly in the air.

Severus didn’t dare move – didn’t dare breathe.  Maybe he had fallen asleep and this was a nightmare, a way for his guilty conscience to atone for his sins?

“Your mother says you’ve learnt your lesson.  Have you?”

“Yes,” Severus replied, quickly.  

Tobias stared evenly at the small boy.  “I thought we had an agreement, you and I?”

“We did.  We do,” Severus said, hastily.  “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Tobias said, reaching to flick a piece of lank hair from hiding Severus’ eyes.  “I want to be sure you won’t do it again.”

“I won’t ever do it again.”

“I need to be certain.”

Tobias stood, hung his belt from the hook at the back of the door, and then left.  The belt swung ominously, the buckle clinking against the door.

Severus barely dared breathe.  He heard his father’s footsteps descending the stairs, and then the front door slammed.  

* * *

He woke, and the hated belt was still there.  He’d only been belted once before.  He’d been threatened enough times, and the twitch of his father’s fingers over the buckle was enough to make Severus fall silent, but he’d only ever felt the leather strap against his skin once.

It was for the same offence. Magic amongst Muggles.  Severus had been taken for a walk down to the paper shop with his father, who’d made the journey to buy a new pouch of tobacco. Severus had wailed and cried and begged for some sweets, and when Tobias wouldn’t relent, he’d summoned the jar of bonbons from behind the counter, leaving the newsagent stunned.

Eileen had hurried down, ostensibly to apologise, but to actually carry out a hasty Obliviate. Severus had been left with his furious father, who had read him the riot act.  He’d made him undress to his briefs, and place his hands flat on the kitchen table, and then he’d belted him hard across his backside.  He paused after every stroke to rebuke him, to reinforce the consequences of his poor behaviour, and then he’d resumed.

Fortunately, Eileen had returned home before long, before too many strokes could be administered, and she’d put a stop to it – but Severus could still remember the stripes of pain across his rump, and how he hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for a week.

He stared at the belt, now glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

Severus closed his eyes, but his sleep was fitful.  Each time he woke, the belt taunted him from the hook.

* * *

Being grounded made it worse.  He was left to stare at the hated belt all day long.  His father hadn’t told him, but when he’d reached the hallway the next morning, his shoes were gone.  He’d hunted high and low, but to no avail.  Eventually, he’d asked his mother, who told him that his father said he was to stay indoors.

“How long for?”

“He didn’t say.”

“I can go barefoot,” he threatened, defiantly, his small jaw jutting out.

Eileen looked sadly at her son.  “I wouldn’t.”

He didn’t.

After the third night of sleeping with the belt in his room, Severus was a mess.  His dreams were full of ever inventive ways of him being belted, and each time he woke in a cold sweat, the belt would be shining in the moonlight.

The following evening, when his father returned from work, after they’d eaten another meal in silence, Severus excused himself from the table.  He slowly walked up the stairs, and unhooked the belt from the back of the door.  He walked back to the kitchen even more slowly and peered around the door.  His father was sat at the table, reading the newspaper.

“Where’s Mum?”

“Gone next door.”

Severus slipped through to the kitchen, the belt carried carefully in both hands.  Tobias lowered the newspaper and inclined his head.

Severus swallowed hard as he handed the belt back to his father.  “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

His heart pounded in his chest as he unbuttoned his trousers, and let them fall to the floor. He bent over the table, his palms flat against the surface.  He was taller now, and the edge of the table pressed painfully into his bony hips.  He felt his father’s hand at his rear, and to Severus’ horror, Tobias yanked his briefs down to his thighs.

“Wha-”

“You’re not a little kid anymore.”

The belt swished through the air before making contact with his skin.  Severus gasped in pain, his fingers grasping against the surface of the table.

“Hush, lad,” his father intoned, his voice impassive, as the belt whistled through the air.  Tobias’ penchant for lecture during his punishment remained the same, but instead of pausing between hits, he merely scolded his son whilst the belt was cutting into his skin.  Severus presumed that he thought Eileen might come home at any time and put a stop to the proceedings, so he didn’t want to pause between strokes.

She didn’t.

Finally, Tobias stopped, and slid his belt back through the loops of his trousers.  Severus stayed where he was, sobbing desperately into the table, his face as purple as his rear.

“Up.  Before your mother comes in and sees you like that.”

Severus stood, and tentatively pulled his briefs up.  He choked in a wail as the material made contact with his damaged skin, and doubled over in pain.  He glared at his father, who had nonchalantly returned to reading his paper, as if nothing had happened, and then he hobbled back towards his bedroom.

* * *

The arguing had started again.  Severus was standing at the window, his forehead pressed against the cool pane. He was dressed only in his nightshirt, thankful that it was loose and barely skirted his damaged behind.  He’d tried sitting, but the pain was too much. He had no idea how he was going to sleep tonight.  If he rolled over in his sleep, he was sure to wake.

Eventually, the shouting ceased, and he heard the front door slam, the tell-tale sign that his father had departed for the pub.  Sure enough, there was a light rap at his door moments later.  It had to be his mother; his father would never knock.

“Son?”

Severus turned from the window, and pulled at his nightshirt, ensuring he was covered.  “Yes?”

Eileen opened the door, and sat on the bed.  “I’m sorry.”

“He made you go next door, didn’t he?”

Eileen nodded.

“He knew.  He knew he’d got to me.  He knew he’d make me ask him to do it,” Severus said, fresh tears forming in his eyes.  “And then he can’t be blamed.”

Eileen looked down.  “He is to blame.  It was too much.”

“I didn’t mean to show magic to the Muggles,” Severus wailed.  “I was sorry.  I was!  He didn’t need to belt me!”

“I know.”  Eileen slid her hand into her robe, and held out a jar of paste.  “I don’t really want to give you this.”

Severus’ bottom lip wobbled. “Because you think I deserved it too.”

“No,” Eileen said, gripping Severus’ chin and lifting it so he looked her in the eyes.  “Because it’ll remove the worst of the pain, but you’ll be left with scars, and the odd twinge later in life.  If you leave it to heal naturally, it might not scar at all.  You’re only ten now.  How will you feel at thirty?”

His suffering was so extreme, Severus couldn’t even think about how it might feel tomorrow, let alone how he’d feel at thirty.  Silently, he held out his hand, and with a moment’s hesitation, Eileen passed him the jar.  She stood, and kissed him on the top of his head.  “Apply it now, and then sleep.  Apply some more in the morning.”  She went to leave, and then turned at the door.  “And Severus, make sure you wince when you sit down for breakfast, else he’ll know.”

* * *

**September 1992**

“You should’ve expelled them.”

“Severus, really.  You’ve been whining about this all week.”

Severus’ expression was petulant.  “Famous Harry Potter.  He who never faces any consequences.”

“There were consequences.”

“A solitary Howler from Molly Weasley?  Addressed to Ronald?  He exposed our world to the Muggles, Minerva!  Am I the only person who sees how dangerous that is?”

“The Ministry have Obliviated all involved.”

Severus scowled.

Minerva sighed, and placed the Daily Prophet on the staffroom table.  “Severus, what’s this really about?”

“It’s not _really_ about anything.  It’s about exactly what it looks like.  Would you like me to write you a list?”  Severus stood and paced the room.  “It’s about justice.  About consequences for your actions.  About taking responsibility.  About learning how to accept a punishment when you’re in the wrong.”

“Severus, the boy is twelve,” Minerva scolded.  “He was a bit overenthusiastic, and he made a mistake.  He doesn’t deserve to be scarred for life.”

Severus’ dark eyes flashed, and he stalked from the staff room, slamming the door as he left. Minerva huffed angrily at the Slytherin’s abrupt departure, and whisked the paper back up.

Back in the dungeons, Severus slowly undressed and stepped into the shower.  He craned his neck, and when he glanced over his shoulder he could clearly see the repeated white outline of his father’s belt criss-crossing his pale skin.


End file.
